Chapter 1

Friday 10.13am

Stella

If there was a prize for the worst blind date, this one definitely should be a contender.

I stare at him, at his stupidly slick hair, his designer stubble, his flashy watch, unnatural tan, and too white teeth, and find myself thinking about jabbing him in the eye with the teaspoon on the table.

“Your biological clock is ticking though, right? Getting close to thirty, your options are running out,” he says.

I’m in a coffee shop, drinking mediocre coffee, and trying not to scowl as my date spews constant verbal diarrhea, all the while thinking about how to get my friend back for setting me up on a blind date with the grade-A asshat sitting opposite me.

He’s so oblivious, he just keeps on talking. “Most girls I know are getting desperate about now. I love having fun as much as the next guy, but it’s time to get serious and think about my future. And what girl I want to pick to be waiting at home for me.”

Pick? He actually thinks women are for him to pick and choose like we’re flowers?

As I mentally glare daggers at him, I drum my fingernails on the tabletop and wonder how on God’s green earth Meredith thought I’d like this douche bag.

She does have a warped sense of humor, so it’s possible she thought it would be funny, or she may have thought he’d be the guy to break the sexual dry spell I’m in, but either way, I will make her pay for this abomination of a blind date.

Standing at six feet, and good looking in an all-American boy-next-door, sort of way, Chad Atkins is a former athlete turned real estate broker who on paper could have been a good match.

Unfortunately, the second he opened his mouth the illusion was shattered.

Not only was he perplexed as to why I’m not married at twenty-eight, but he also can’t wrap his head around what I do for a living.

After trying to explain I’m not in IT, but in cybersecurity, he looked so confused, I took pity on his tiny brain, and just let him think whatever he wanted.

As far as I’m concerned, the date is finished even if my coffee isn’t.

I exchange a look with the woman sitting at the next table who seems to have caught on that I’m in living hell.

Her face is pinched, and I’m sure I’ve heard her conversation stop several times as she tries in vain to not overhear Chad talking.

I should have known this was going to go poorly when he made a point of sitting underneath the photo of himself, probably hung on the wall a decade ago when he was at his prime.

When I look back at him, he’s scrutinizing my appearance on a level bordering creepy. “What are you? Like five-eight? Hundred twenty pounds?”

I arch an eyebrow. “And that’s relevant because?”

He shrugs. “I need to add it to the list.”

I know I’ll regret it, but I ask anyway. “The list?”

He bobs his head, making his blonde hair flop into his cool blue eyes. “Yeah, I’m currently ranking my dates. So far, you’re number two this week. But that could change.”

The woman next to us nearly chokes on her coffee and mutters to her girlfriend.

More and more heads are turning in our direction, and it’s not because he’s as famous as he thinks he is.

I’m so beyond done I just lean back in my chair and decide to mess with him a little. “Only number two, huh?”

He’s such a chauvinist, he doesn’t even recognize how insulting that is, he just nods, slowly, and answers as he checks out my cleavage for the third time in as many minutes.

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t invest in women who have different priorities from me. You’re in shape, but you seem to work pretty long hours and you work for yourself in computers and shit. I’m not sure that fits with my ideal woman.”

The woman closest sucks in a breath of air, and I swear I feel every set of ovaries within earshot tense. “And what pray tell is your ideal woman?” I say.

He’s so clueless, he actually smiles warmly as though I’m speaking his language. “She looks a lot like you. But with less ambition. She’s a great cook, wears dresses, heels and she’s maybe ten pounds lighter than you are.”

My nostrils flare, and if he weren’t so utterly ridiculous, I might have been more offended.

But in my line of work, I’ve learned to deal with all kinds of people from paranoid celebrities to frustrated FBI agents.

There is no one I’ve met who I haven’t been able to pacify, or put in his place, and this guy, this itty bitty brained washed-up footballer is no exception.

Using every ounce of self-control I have, I lower my voice to a notch above a growl. “I wish I could live in your tiny little world in your simple little head where women are little more than decorations. Unfortunately, I’d have to shrink my brain to about a third of its current size and stop thinking altogether.”

I raise my hands as if truly dismayed. “And as deeply satisfying it would have been being the woman who cleans your toilet, cooks you dinner, and sucks your tiny dick on demand, alas I have lofty ambitions that don’t meet your strict criteria.”

His eyes pop, but since I’m not done, I smile as sweetly as I can. “I strongly recommend you get neutered. It might not help your abysmal personality, but it sure as shit will stop you from polluting the gene pool any further.”

I reach forward and with a smile still locked on my face, I slowly tip the remains of my coffee all over his head. “Thanks for the reminder I’m better off alone,” I say.

He jumps to his feet, spluttering and going red in the face as his chair crashes to the ground.

Without a backward look at him or at the customers now staring slack-jawed at me, I stalk towards the front door.

“You fucking bitch! Don’t you know who I am?” he yells.

I turn and look over my shoulder at him. “I know exactly who and what you are, you dimwit. You’re everything that’s wrong with the world.”

I slide my sunglasses on and step outside as the women in the coffee shop erupt into applause.

I close the door to the sound of Chad’s angry voice and focus on getting to where I need to go.

I’m walking down the street when my work phone rings.

Since I’m self-employed and a lousy date doesn’t give me reason enough to ditch, I answer as I walk back to my SUV. “This is Stella,” I say.

“Hey, Stella! My name’s Waylon Higgins. I understand you work on referral only? I got your number from our IT guru, Nate Johnson? He said you’re the go-to woman for this sort of thing?”

At the sight of Chad as he leaves the coffee shop, I jump in my vehicle and slouch down in my seat and hope he doesn’t see me.

“I know Nate. What can I do for you?”

“We’ve got a possible security issue and I need to ensure my clients' privacy is protected. I know it’s last minute, and I’m willing to accommodate you any way I can, but are you free to come to Oregon this weekend?”

My eyebrow arches as I buckle my seat belt. “Where in Oregon?”

“Mountain View Hunting. We’re a privately managed nature reserve.”

Since I’ve got no plans and I’d love a change of scene, I start mentally reorganizing jobs as I watch a fuming Chad yelling into his phone and stomping in my direction.

In about three seconds he’s going to be close enough to see me. “When do you need me?”

Waylon pauses. “ASAP. We’ve got a small window of opportunity to catch a poacher and ensure everything runs to plan when the season starts.”

I’m more than a little distracted when I see Chad yelling and jogging towards me.

I flinch, and push my foot down on the accelerator, and manage to swerve into traffic just as he reaches my car.

As Waylon starts to tell me about being worried someone on staff is involved, I’m finding it difficult to listen as I consider what I just did and the possible consequences.

Considering Chad has my private cell number, and knows a friend of mine if he’s angry enough he could cause a problem I could have prevented.

I really need to do something about my intolerance; it’s gotten me into trouble on more than one occasion.

And if I carry on losing my cool in my personal life it could damage my reputation and impact my professional life.

I’m so distracted, I miss Waylon’s question and have to ask him to repeat himself.

“I said, my head of security is away this weekend and I’ve allowed him to bring his own guy in to replace him. Under no circumstances can he know I’m investigating the employees.”

Heart beating a little too fast, I take a calming breath before I answer. “No problem. Just text me the details and I can be there tonight,” I say.

***

Jagger

Friday 11.12am

From my seat at the bar where I agreed to meet him, I know Matt is about to try to sell me something I don’t want the second he limps through the door.

He still looks the same as the last time I saw him. Thick-set build, close-cropped hair, and even though he’s inactive like me, still carries a steel edge to him, I know all our squad has.

He extends his hand and gives me a wry smile. “Wasn’t sure you’d show.”

I cock an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I show? I was in the area, sort of.”

He gives me a crooked smile. “Didn’t know if you’ve got anything better going.”

I smile even though I don’t much feel like it as I pump his hand. “I was halfway through a bottle of Jack with my little brother when you called.”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Well, I figured now you’re back on home ground, you might need some work. Not a lot of call for guys like us.”

I choke on my drink at that. I’m nothing like Matt, he’s a career Marine with a wife, three kids, and a chunk of shrapnel in his hip.

I’m the guy who joined the Marines so he could travel, blow up shit, and avoid dealing with my grief.

“I’m not here for that long. What you need me for?”

He gestures to the bartender and orders a scotch before he fills me in. “I’ve run into a problem, and my boss needs it dealt with quietly.”

At the way he’s looking around the empty bar like he’s worried someone will overhear, I lean a little closer. “And you figured I’m the guy to help you with that?”

He nods and waits for the bartender to walk away before replying. “You’ve been running anti-trafficking intelligence in Malawi, right?”

I nod. “I’ve been training local anti-poaching units. You going to tell me what’s up?”

His eyes drift to the napkin on the bar. “I picked up a good job at a wildlife reserve last year. But it’s not your average run of the mill park, it’s privately run and is big business. Members are only allowed to hunt during the season. Privacy is paramount.”

My face contorts. “Isn’t that like shooting fish in a barrel?”

He shakes his head. “Not here it isn’t. It’s my job to make sure the animals aren’t easy targets.”

I choke on a laugh. “So, this is what they pay you for? Driving around shooting at them so the deer will learn to hide from rich white people?”

He extends his middle finger. “Yeah, yeah fuck you. Not all of us can pick up and go hunt ivory poachers in the desert. I have a family to look after and disability only goes so far.”

I shake my head. “What do you need me for then? You must have a security detail already?”

He nods. “I’ve got an ongoing poaching problem and it’s starting to get noticed. Normally I can handle it with my guys. But this asshole is different than the usual jackass we catch trespassing. He’s getting past security measures that he shouldn’t be.”

That gets my attention. “You think it’s a pro? An inside job?”

He shrugs. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

I take a swallow of my drink before I nod. “How’s he getting access?”

Matt seems pleased as he nods slowly. “That’s where my problem is. He knows where the cameras are, knows how to bypass the gate and always picks weekends when security is at a minimum.”

“Can’t you change the location of the cameras?”

He nods. “Already tried it. I’ve even changed the codes even though it’s a pain in the ass, but he still gets through. It’s like he’s one step ahead of me.”

I scratch my chin stubble and wonder why this warrants a phone call to me. One poacher shouldn’t be hard for a Devil Dog like Matt.

“You tried using something as bait? Flushing him out?”

I wait for him to take a drink before he nods. “Twice now. Both times he’s slipped by and made me look like an asshole.”

I’m beginning to see why he thinks he needs a hand with this. If someone in his team is helping the poacher he needs to find out.

His lips tug down as he looks at his drink. “I’ve let the ball drop on this one and Waylon isn’t happy. Liz hasn’t been well. She’s got her folks staying to look after the kids so we can go see an oncologist in Portland.”

I flinch, more at the pain lacing his usually stoic expression. After watching dad fall apart, I know if there’s one thing that can break a hard ass, it’s seeing the woman he loves get sick.

While I try not to think about my own mother, Matt’s carrying on. “Waylon’s authorized me to hire someone who can be discrete, and the pay is good. I figured with your combat experience and your work with the EPA, you’re just about my best hope.”

Even before he’s finished speaking, I know I can’t turn him down even if I do need to get back to Africa ASAP.

I’ve met Liz a few times over the years, met Matt’s kids, and hearing she’s gotten sick with three kids under the age of ten, makes something in my midsection ache.

I blow out a sigh and nod slowly. “If it’ll help you guys out, I’ll stick around till Monday and see what I can do. Maybe camp onsite, see if I can catch him in the act?”

A little of the tension falls from his face. “Was hoping you say that. Waylon’s going all out to get this one this weekend. He’s even decided to hire an outside cyber expert to make sure we cover all bases. You’ll need to give him everything he needs while he’s here. I can give you the codes, passwords, everything.”

I cock an eyebrow. “Not sure if I’ll need to work with him but couldn’t hurt to have someone take a look.”

He shakes his head. “Mountain View is tech-heavy, think of Jurassic Park without the dinosaurs. I usually have to babysit the tech guys he hires and most hate fresh air and are allergic to dirt.”

I choke out a laugh until I realize he’s serious. I mock growl at him. “So, I do all the work and you get all the credit for hiring me?”

He grins at me before he slaps me on the shoulder. “Think of it as a way to earn good karma.”

I curse under my breath. “I don’t believe in karma. And if I have to hand hold an egghead who can’t tie his own shoelaces, I can’t guarantee I’ll be happy about it.”

He frowns. “For what Waylon’s willing to pay you for catching this guy, I’m sure you can suck it up.”

I release a sigh and wonder how I’ve gone from getting mashed with my brother, Dawson in Seattle to agreeing to rough it for a weekend when I should be in my dad’s house.

“Because it’s Liz, I’ll suck it up,” I mutter.